


Heat of the Moment

by MistressMycroft



Series: DragonLock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Dragonlock, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Shameless Smut, Shapeshifting, Shy Mycroft, Snippet of larger dragonlock fic-Ending The Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMycroft/pseuds/MistressMycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg checks in on Mycroft after he misses a meeting. What he finds may surprise him, in the heat of the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Snippet of a larger Alternate Universe fic.  
> Beta'ed by, Mere_Vanilla (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mere_Vanilla/pseuds/Mere_Vanilla)

“Unless you have a case Lestrade, we have nothing to discuss.” Sherlock sighed loudly.  
“Your brother has missed our weekly meeting! He didn’t even have his assistant call to say he needed to cancel. What else am I to ‘deduce’, other than something is wrong?” Greg asked exasperated.  
“Why do you care?” Sherlock asked, eyeing the older man with suspicion.  
“I care because he’s my friend.” Greg answered. 

“Mycroft doesn’t do friends.” Sherlock sneered.  
“Just like you, until John came along.” Greg shot back.  
“Are you claiming to be Mycroft’s… ‘John’?” Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.” The older man replied, waving his hands through the air in exasperation. 

Sherlock looked at the man a few seconds longer. His eyes narrowed in concentration, before breaking contact and standing. He moved across the room to find pen and paper. Once located, he proceeded to scribble something down and fold said paper. He then walked back towards Greg, to stand directly in front of him. 

“Here.” He handed Greg the paper.  
“What is it?”  
“You wanted to know where Mycroft was, and that’s the address.” Sherlock slumped back down into his chair.  
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Greg smiled, unfolding the paper. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
“What do you mean?” Greg’s smile faded into a frown.  
“This won’t end well.” Sherlock muttered.  
“Right.” Greg replied confused by the younger man’s statement.  
“Good day, Lestrade.” Sherlock waved a hand at him in dismissal. Greg just shook his head. Child, definitely petulant child.

 

************************

When he reached the destination Sherlock had written down, Greg realized he may have made an error. The address was a residence, not an office, as he had assumed. Greg stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and slowly walked up the front steps. He took a deep breath and gathered himself together before pressing the button for the doorbell. He heard movement from inside the flat, but no one came to the door. Greg pushed the button again. This time he heard a crackling noise come from the intercom, located next to the doorbell. It continued for a moment before a voice answered. 

“Hello?” Was that Mycroft? Greg wondered. The voice seemed strained somehow, almost as if the man was in pain.  
“Mycroft?” Greg asked.  
“Gre…Gregory? What….How did you get this address?” Definitely Mycroft.  
“You missed our meeting and I hadn’t heard from you or your assistant. I was worried something had happened to you.” Greg explained.  
“Anthea’s out with the flu. I was…not feeling well either; thus I forgot to inform you….” The speaker cut out.  
“Mycroft? Mycroft!” Greg asked, concerned. Something about the man’s voice and speech seemed off to him. Not normal for Mycroft Holmes to stutter or forget anything. 

An incessant buzzing sound roused Greg from his musings. It was the door; he was being let in. Greg quickly grabbed the door and entered the flat. He stopped in the main entry way, letting the door swing shut behind him. The lock automatically clicked into place. The room felt extremely cold compared to outside; the air smelled of something sweet. The further into the flat he walked, the stronger the scent became, and the colder it got. Greg found the elder Holmes standing in front of a large empty fireplace. 

“Mycroft? Is everything all right?” Greg asked.  
“Fine… You’ve seen me, now go.” The taller man turned to face him. 

Greg had to hold back a gasp, as he took in the other man’s appearance. Mycroft wore only pants and a loose-fitting house coat. Not at all what you would expect from a man who wears bespoke suits like a second skin. Something was not right. 

“You look like crap, Mycroft. Have you seen a doctor?” Greg asked, stepping closer.  
“I have; and I was assured that it is something that must run its course.” Mycroft replied. 

As he observed the man, Greg could see the constant fidgeting of Mycroft’s posture. The taller man kept switching his weight from one foot to the other and his hands were constantly clenching and unclenching at his side. Two thoughts ran through Greg’s mind. One being that Mycroft was extremely nervous and agitated; or two, he was fighting very hard to maintain his self-control. The latter seemed more likely. When Greg moved forward again, Mycroft took a step back, maintaining the distance between them. 

“You’re lying. This isn’t some flu you are fighting, it’s yourself.” Greg replied, moving closer and closer to the taller man until Mycroft’s back was against the wall. Mycroft turned his head away and closed his eyes. He tensed as if in pain, “What’s going on, Mycroft?” Greg asked harshly.

“Please…Greg…ory….just leave.” Mycroft stuttered. Greg gasped as the sweet smell hit him again. He looked at Mycroft.  
“Is that you?” Greg breathed, leaning into the taller man.  
“Gregory…please…” Mycroft whispered as the older man leaned in further to bury his nose in Mycroft’s neck. Greg inhaled deeply. The other man went completely still. 

“In the academy we were told that a dragon in heat is a dangerous dragon.” Greg replied, “Are you a danger to me, Mycroft?”  
“I…Not if you…leave.” He breathed.  
“And if I don’t?” Greg asked, moving back to see the other man’s face. He let out a noise that was between a gasp and a hiss. Mycroft’s eyes were completely dilated: Hardly any blue visible, and he was looking at Greg as if he wished to devour him.  
“Last chance…Gregory.”

“I’m not leaving.” Greg stood his ground until he saw the feral look on Mycroft’s face. He stumbled backwards in fear catching his leg on something. He was sent sprawling to the floor on his back. “Mine.” It was only just loud enough for Greg to hear it; as the taller man came towards Greg and straddled him.  
“Mycroft.” Greg gasped when he felt the man’s arousal against his belly. 

 

“I’m going…to use…you Gregory.” He paused to lean down and whisper into the older man’s ear, “Use you…like a breeding stud.” Greg let out a moan.  
“Whatever you want.”  
“Then follow me.” Mycroft moved off the man. He stood, and made his way to the staircase behind Greg. 

Greg took a minute to just breathe. Standing, he followed Mycroft’s path up the stairs. It wasn’t the sweet scent that led him to the upstairs bedroom, but the trail of clothing strewn about the floor. Mycroft must be desperate if he was treating any of his clothing so poorly. When he reached the bedroom, the door had been left ajar. Greg walked in and closed the door behind him. He moved towards the bed and thought his heart might give out at the sight before him. Mycroft lay in the middle of the bed, legs splayed wide. His eyes were closed, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and one hand wrapped around his cock.

“Gregory…” He moaned.  
“God you’re beautiful.” Greg murmured. Mycroft’s eyes snapped open.  
“Then strip.” Mycroft hissed, and Greg complied. Once divested of his clothing, Greg slowly crawled his way up Mycroft’s body. The man let out a low, desperate moan.  
“You truly are beautiful, Mycroft. I could spend days just looking at you. All these freckles…”Greg sighed as he trailed a hand up and down Mycroft’s arm and shoulder. 

“I was…hoping you…would do more…than look.” Mycroft’s hand left his own cock in favor of grasping Greg’s.  
“Oh.” Greg threw his head back as Mycroft pumped his shaft. It had been so long since anything but his own hand had touched his body. 

Wanting to return the favor, he reached down and took a hold of Mycroft’s cock. As he began pumping, Greg was rewarded with a string of gasps and moans from the man beneath him. Greg watched as an expression of pleasure rolled over Mycroft’s face. 

“Please…Gregory…” Mycroft whined.  
“What is it, Mycroft? What do you need?” Greg asked as the hand on his own cock began to falter and then stop. Greg stilled his own hand as he waited for an answer.  
“Fuck me.” Mycroft moved his legs up to encase Greg between them. 

“All right. Do we need…”  
“No. Dragon’s produce their own….” Mycroft let out another whine as Greg shifted his hips down. He settled within the cradle of the taller man’s hips. Mycroft was breathing hard and letting out little moans of satisfaction as Greg moved his hand down to the man’s hole. When he pushed one finger in, Mycroft let out a cry of pleasure.  
“You’re…wet.” Greg mumbled in disbelief. 

“Naturally produced…Ah… when…Oh…in heat.” Mycroft moaned. Greg responded by sliding in another finger. Slowly he began to thrust them in and out.  
“Please…Just…” Mycroft pleaded.  
“But…I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You won’t…now please.” Mycroft shifted his hips further on to Greg’s fingers. Ignoring the man’s protests, Greg inserted a third finger. He angled the thrusts just right, hitting the prostate.  
“Oh…Greg…gory.” Mycroft cried, his cock giving a spurt of pre-cum.  
“Oh, god that’s hot.” Greg gasped, before removing his fingers. “Do we need…um…”Greg felt stupid for bumbling like a school boy, “Condoms?”  
“I know… you’re clean.”  
“What about you?” Greg asked.  
“I’ve…never…” Mycroft moved away, blushing with embarrassment. He opened the drawer of the bedside table, reaching inside he withdrew a foil packet.  
“You’re…you never had…sex?” Greg asked quietly, bringing a hand up to caress the man’s hair.  
“No…I was sixteen when…I had my last heat.”  
“Jesus, Mycroft. You’ve been on suppressants that long?”  
“Yes.” He whispered, handing the packet to the older man. 

“That’s…not healthy.” He took the packet with one hand and continued to run the other through Mycroft’s hair.  
“I know…Doctor…took me off them.”  
“Good.” Greg replied placing a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek.  
“She said…I…” Tears slipped from Mycroft’s eyes.  
“Hey. It’s ok…tell me.” Greg encouraged.  
Mycroft turned back to look at him, “I would…die if I continued…”  
“Oh….Mycroft.”  
“I…couldn’t…leave Sherlock…alone.” Mycroft replied blinking back tears.  
“He won’t be alone, and neither will you.” Greg leaned down and pressed his lips to Mycroft’s. 

The kiss started off chaste, but quickly deepened; Mycroft’s tongue dancing with his. They pulled apart for air. The intensity of their desire crackled in the space between them. Greg tore open the packet and rolled the condom over his hardened flesh, before returning his attention back to his lover. 

“Ready?” Greg asked, cupping Mycroft’s cheek.  
“Yes.” Mycroft gasped. Greg reached between them and lined up his cock. He pressed forward slowly and gently. Mycroft’s eyes closed, a quiet moan escaping his lips.  
“Oh…” Greg gasped as he slowly pushed in further. Once fully seated inside, Greg stilled; waiting. “You alright?”  
“Perfect.” Mycroft smiled, opening his eyes to meet those of his lover, “Please.” He encouraged.  
“Whatever you want, beautiful.” Greg smiled, placing another kiss on the taller man’s lips. As they deepened the kiss Mycroft canted his hips upward, earning him a groan from his lover. Fuck.  
“Please.” Mycroft chuckled against Greg’s lips.

Greg pulled back from the taller man, his cock slipping almost free. Just the tip remained inside his gasping lover. Greg pushed back in until his ballocks rested on the swell of his lover’s arse. Mycroft locked his arms and ankles around Greg’s back, encouraging him. 

“More.” He whispered.  
“With pleasure.” Greg replied, pulling out and thrusting back in with a little more effort.  
“Ah….Yes…please Gregory.” Mycroft moaned, raking his nails up Greg’s back in ecstasy. 

Greg began thrusting at a much more rigorous pace. Mycroft cried out in rapturous pleasure. His abdominal muscles began tightening, white hot heat curling in the pit of his stomach.

“Please….Gregory…” Mycroft moaned.  
“What is it….tell me what you need.” Greg panted.  
“Close….please….so…” Mycroft pleaded as his orgasm began to crest.  
“Fuck…yes…almost…” Greg groaned when his own climax threatened to overwhelm him. His thrust starting to become erratic, pounding the taller man’s prostate relentlessly. 

“Gregory….I’m…” Mycroft closed his eyes and threw his head back as his climax rippled through him. His hands clutched desperately at the older man’s shoulders.  
“Fuck. Mycroft.” Greg growled. Mycroft’s climax caused his inner muscles to grip the older man’s cock like a vice; his own cock releasing stream after stream onto his stomach and that of his lover. 

Greg fell over the edge, crying his pleasure to the ceiling; eyes screwed shut in sweet agony. Mycroft whimpered as his lover’s thrusts stuttered and then finally ceased with their mutual climax. Greg rolled off to the side in order to avoid crushing the younger man. They lay next to each other, both panting with the effort of their shared release. Mycroft opened his eyes to look at his newly found lover, only to find Greg staring back at him in awe. 

“That was….” Greg smiled.  
“Please don’t…” Mycroft cut him off and turned to look away.  
“Amazing.” Greg finished. Mycroft’s head whipped around, his eyes wide, and mouth agape.  
“Wh..what?” He asked. Greg rid himself of the soiled condom, dropping it into the bin next to the bed.  
“I said, that was amazing.” Greg replied. He rolled off the bed into a standing position and made his way to the en-suit. 

“I….really?” Mycroft asked as Greg returned with a wet flannel.  
“God. You really don’t know how to take a complement, do you?” He laughed, moving to straddle Mycroft’s thighs. 

Mycroft whimpered as Greg drew the wet flannel over the man’s sensitive skin, cleaning up the evidence of his obvious enjoyment. Mycroft didn’t know how to respond, so he drew Greg into a kiss. He poured everything he had into that kiss, and when they parted for air Mycroft smiled. For knowing that at last, he’d been filled in the way his body craved. In that moment he decided to never again deny his body’s natural urges, for he knew that Gregory would be there to help soothe them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Feel free to leave kudos and constructive criticism.


End file.
